Safety in Darkness
by wintervixen86
Summary: In the midst of a dirty gritty violent war, two enemies meet in the shadow of darkness to hold on to a string of their sanity.
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE: **Safety in Darkness

**AUTHOR: **wintervixen86

**RATING: **M

**SHIP: **Draco/Hermione

**GENRE: **Angst/Romance

**SUMMARY: **In the midst of a dirty gritty violent war, two enemies meet in the shadow of darkness to hold on to a string of their sanity.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything. This story comes from the deepest darkest corner of my imagination.

*~*

**FOREWORD**

Dear Reader,

My story spans two years, forty eight days and six hours.

But I cannot tell you my story in days. Or months. Or years. Or even chapters. This is because I don't look back on my story and view the events that changed my life in minutes or hours. I don't remember if it was day or night, hot or cold, summer or winter. It doesn't matter because time is not what measures war. Not accurately anyway. A war could rage for a hundred years and you still wouldn't really understand the scope of the battle.

The only thing that really matters is loss.

How many people were involved, how many were killed or tortured or possessed by a stranger and forced to do their bidding. How many lost their minds, their family, their friends, their loved ones. How many gave their lives to a cause either willingly or unwillingly. How many died on the battlefield or in hospitals as healers worked around the clock to save them.

Loss is the only thing that matters in war.

A lot of people argue with me and claim victory is what's important, but victory doesn't keep you up at night. Victory isn't what worries you at every moment of every minute everyday. Victory is not what makes you break down into tears or scream so loud your throat wants to split in two. It isn't what sends you into a depression so deep you think you will never emerge.

Its loss that does those things. Its loss that makes you do things you wouldn't usually do. It was loss that sent me into the arms of the enemy, and loss that kept me going back even when I hated myself for it. It was loss that brought us together and kept us together even in the darkest and most desperate periods of time.

Call it what you will... death toll, lives lost, those murdered. Whatever. But those numbers are the only way I can tell this story.

Signed,

Hermione Granger

_*~*_

_To be continued..._

_Review!  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_*~*_

_**86 DEAD**_

The rain fell heavily from the sky now, washing the blood from her hands and masking the tears that ran unchecked down her cheeks. It was cold, too cold for April, and within seconds the rain had plastered her cloak to her body like a second skin, freezing her to the bone. She was shaking, whether from the cold or the aftershocks of crucio she did not know.

It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered except the agonizing ache that burned in the center of her chest. The pain that made her feel like her insides were about to fall out, and the knowledge that she could do nothing about it except wrap her arms around her stomach and try to keep everything together.

The pain was deep - both physical and emotional - but she held onto it now like a lifeline. It served as a reminder of those she had loved and lost, for those she would lose in the coming months, and for those who still fought to make a difference in this complete and utter mess.

"Miss Granger?"

The voice felt so far away in comparison to the cold hard reality of war; of the prone bodies at her feet, the pain in her chest, the dark magic in the air, the blood that stained the grass, and the horrid aftertaste of Avada Kedavra in her mouth.

A hand slapped across her cheek.

It was like being jolted from a dream. Hermione snapped into the present to find a member of the Post Battle Squad standing in front of her, his face dirty, hands bloody and eyes concerned. He was gripping her arms so tight that it hurt. "Miss Granger!" he asked desperately, "are you okay?"

The question was a strange one because she was so far from being okay that she was almost in another time zone. She was exhausted and cold and dirty, and so emotionally scarred that she didn't even recognize herself anymore. But she knew that wasn't what he meant. "I'm not hurt," she whispered, her voice weak and broken from the effects of battle. She cleared her throat, "I'm okay."

"Are you okay to apparate out of here?" He had to shout to be heard over the rain.

Hermione swallowed, brushed the water from her eyes and nodded, "just give me a few seconds."

He grimaced and gripped her shoulder before moving on to the next fallen solider.

Once he was gone Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath trying to find the will to apparate safely without splinching herself. But who was she kidding? She wasn't in any state to apparate. What she should do is wait for the Post Battle Squad to finish their checks and summon portkeys. But the aftershocks of battle terrified Hermione. All those bodies. All that blood and gore and sadness and loss. It was too much for her to handle. She could walk into battle and fight for her life, she could even kill if she needed to, but she could not sit around and experience the horrific aftermath of war. That was something she just couldn't do. Everyone had to draw the line somewhere.

A burst of heat hit her back and Hermione turned to see a purple fire roaring in the distance. Even from her proximity she knew that the black specs being tossed into the flames were bodies. Her head swam and her stomach churned and then without any warning she turned, heaved, and vomited the contents of her stomach all over the blood soaked grass. The acid burned in her throat and her eyes watered from the agony. All she could taste was the remains of the killing curse against her tongue; it was a bitter angry taste that she knew would not leave for days. It would stay there in her mouth as a constant reminder of death.

Tender hands pulled her hair from her face and rubbed her back as she heaved again and again until there was nothing left to bring up. Spiting miserably Hermione looked from her crouched position to see Ronald Weasly soothing her patiently. He looked an absolute wreck, hair wet and sticking to his face and neck in clumps, deep purple bags underneath his eyes, skin covered in a mixture of blood and dirt. She knew she didn't look any better. The beginning of a war was no time for vanity. "Harry?" she asked softly, desperately needing to know the answer and yet not wanting to hear it.

"He apparated out of here a few seconds ago."

The tension in the pit of her stomach eased and Hermione allowed herself to relax. Harry and Ron were okay. As long as they were okay then she could do this. Everything was fine.

She straightened and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight and taking every piece of comfort she could in this small moment of peace. She needed to enjoy it now because tomorrow the worry would resume. It always did. It never ended.

_**90 DEAD**_

"The Death Eaters are moving in to seize the small Muggle town of Willow Oaks."

Hermione sighed and rubbed her forehead. She knew that town, she had passed through it many times as a child on family vacations. From what she could remember it was nothing more than a tiny community with less than 300 people. It had a grocery store, a petrol station, a hairdresser and that was about it. "I know that town, it's barely on the map, what could Voldemort possibly want with it?"

Harry shrugged, "I don't know, no one does. The Order spent hours arguing over possible reasons and came up with nothing."

"Conquer and destroy," Hermione sighed, "since when does that need logic?"

"If we have learned anything it's that Voldemort isn't random," Harry murmured.

"So are they sending a team in?"

Harry shook his head, "no."

Hermione's mouth dropped open slightly. "So they're just going to let all those people _die_?"

Harry sighed and rubbed his weary, sleep deprived face. "We don't know that he means to kill them."

Hermione huffed in disbelief.

Harry waved a hand, "okay, maybe we do, but we don't know any more than that. It would be too dangerous to send in a team that isn't prepared."

"Are they your words or the Ministry's?"

"It doesn't matter, the Senior Advisory Board doesn't give a damn what I think."

Hermione rubbed her forehead as the feeling of utter helplessness threatened to overwhelm her. Once again the Order of the Phoenix was two steps behind. No matter how hard the Order fought or how much they planned, they were always cleaning up the havoc that Voldemort and his supporters created. They would never win this war if they kept playing cat and mouse. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I think we should go in."

Hermione blinked slowly. "And accomplish what? Scaring people half to death?"

"So what... we sit here and do nothing?" Harry demanded, his green eyes bright and passionate despite the weariness that clouded them. "We have to at least try Hermione."

**384 DEAD**

"This is such a bad idea," Hermione whispered as she apparated from Grimmauld Place to Willow Oaks in the space of a heat beat. She had appeared on the main road of the town with Harry clinging to her arm beside her. She glanced both ways up the main street and saw no one. Nothing moved. Everything was still. Like a ghost town. It was the middle of the night, but she expected to see someone hanging around. Right now Hermione wouldn't have been surprised to see a tumble weed blow past their feet like in an old Western movie. The idea brought a wry smile of amusement to her lips – it was the first time she had smiled in days.

"How many people did you say lived here?" Harry asked quietly, letting go of her arm and walking to the closest building to peer through the darkened front windows.

"At last census date there was 283," Hermione replied as her hand clenched around her wand. This entire place gave her the creeps, which worried her because she couldn't remember ever feeling that way in the past. In fact she recalled feeling vaguely charmed by the small town when they stopped at the petrol station several years ago. Hermione walked towards the shadowy station now, frowning at the chill in the air and the vague sense of magic. Something wasn't right.

"Fuck," Harry breathed suddenly, his eyes over Hermione's shoulder.

She turned and breath caught in her throat when she realised what it was. The beginnings of the Dark Mark looming in the sky, getting larger and larger every second until it nearly covered the entire town.

"We're too late," Hermione whispered, horrified as the mark cast a green glow over the streets.

"No we're not," Harry snarled.

Hermione followed his glare and her heart immediately began to pound when two cloaked, masked Death Eaters emerged from behind a building to join them in the street. The small part of her that wasn't terrified was surprised. Had two people seriously killed 283 people? She knew Death Eaters were evil, but the murder of so many people took her horror to a whole new level. In between her terror, horror and surprise was the unmistakable feeling of anger. It was like red hot liquid fire that coated her insides and sharpened every one of her senses, so when the first incantation was cast, she was ready.

Hermione had been in too many duels to count since the start of the war, but nothing like this. The Death Eater she fought sent spells at her so fast she barely had time to deflect them, and when she sent them back he seemed to read her thoughts instead of her wand movement, so by the time they reached him he had already lazily deflected them. The variety of spells he threw at her was surprising. Usually witches and wizards had a couple of spells that they used over and over; Death Eaters especially, stuck to three or four. But this one threw an unrelenting flow of curses, counter curses, jinxs and other spells that produced a light or effect that she had never encountered before.

Hermione was still busy deflecting a maroon spell she didn't recognise when another was shot quickly in her direction. She had just enough time to wonder which spell produced a topaz colour and the scent of chlorine before the force of the spell blasted both herself and Harry off their feet.

"What the fuck was that?" Harry panted as he rolled to avoid a shoot of red light which struck the pavement beside him.

Hermione didn't have time to respond before a second blast knocked her wand from her hand, resulting in a long line of curses spilling from her mouth. Swearing was something she had picked up over the past couple of weeks, and despite everything, it made her feel better at moments like these. "Piss,shit,fuck,ACCIO!" Her wand jumped instantly into her hand and Hermione immediately jumped back into the action.

Her duel sent her down the street and through random alleys; sometimes she gained ground, sometimes she was forced back. She had lost sight of Harry ages ago but hoped he was okay.

Out of sheer luck, or maybe a slip up on his part, Hermione finally succeeded in disarming her opponent, but before she could cry out triumphantly at the sight of his wand spinning through the air he slammed her body into the wall, and all the breath rushed out of her lungs in surprise.

A quick struggle for her wand took place, and in anger of her wand being snatched from her fingers and tossed away, Hermione grabbed the only thing she could (his head), and yanked with all her might. But instead of ripping his head from his body (like she had hoped) all that came off was his hood and mask. The person under the mask made her jaw drop.

The white blond hair was unmistakable. The sight of it sent waves of surprise through the pits of her stomach. She would recognise that hair anywhere. At any other time she might have been shocked speechless from the appearance of a former classmate, but now the sight of his pale features and glittering grey eyes provoked a fury in her that she had never before felt.

"I should have known!" Hermione snarled as she threw his mask viciously away from her like it was contaminated. "I should have fucking known!"

"Miss me, Mudblood?" he growled back, his voice like ice running down her spine.

They were both wandless now, and he was stronger than she, but Hermione was far from caring. She threw herself at him with such a force that they both crashed to the ground. Surprise was on her side so Hermione clobbered every inch of him she could reach before he came to his senses, growled, and shoved her roughly away from him. She only had a second to catch her breath before a fist connected with her temple. She felt like her head was nearly knocked off her shoulders, causing her to shout out in surprise and pain. Who would have thought a blow to the head would hurt so fucking much! That blow was followed by several others that left her dazed and confused, but she was thinking clearly enough to send a hard kick to his knee, which sent him crashing to the floor. They wrestled on the ground in a series of hits, kicks and muddled confusion until in a change of events that surprised the heck out of her, Hermione found herself pinned to the ground by Draco fucking Malfoy, his wand jammed painfully into her throat.

Hermione froze, quickly evaluated the situation and then her mind began working overtime, trying to find a way out of this mess. This is what she was born for, what she had worked towards – quick rational thinking in a crisis. She racked her brains quickly trying to come up with a plan, any plan, but was horrified to find that nothing came to mind. And then again, for the second time in a couple of days, that fucking awful feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her, freezing her body and suffocating her mind.

"You know," Malfoy finally began after watching the helplessness and terror slowly replace the stubborn determination in her eyes, "I think I like you like this Granger. Knocked off your high horse. Underneath a pure blooded Malfoy. It's where you belong." He jammed his wand tip further into her throat and she winced. "Any last words?"

It was so fucking cruel. If it was her time to die then she was fine with that, she accepted that there was a power higher than herself that decided those things. But to die at the hand of fucking Malfoy was just cruel. "Fuck you!" Hermione spat, her fury temporarily replacing her fear.

He just smirked and tightened his grip on her shoulder, "I think I'm going to enjoy this."

Hermione knew he was going to do it. She could see it in the way his eyes darkened, his smirk disappeared, and his hand clenched around his wand. She could see those two dreadful killing words behind his eyes and she knew he was going to kill her just like he had killed everyone else in this town. Hermione had never known terror like she did at that moment. She didn't want to die, not like this, not ever, she still had so much she wanted to do in her life, so much to accomplish. But none of that really mattered. All she really wanted to do right this second was hug her parents and tell them how much she loved them, tell Harry and Ron that everything was going to be okay, tell them that she was happy and wasn't afraid to die when she really was scared out of her wits. Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to breathe around the wand tip that was viciously wedged into her wind pipe, and she was vaguely aware that she was hyperventilating, but that seemed less bothersome than the fact that her eyes were tearing up in front of the last person she ever wanted to witness them.

She squeezed her eyes shut and struggled not to sob, waiting for those crucial words that she would half hear before her life was sucked from her body. They would be coming any second now and Hermione tensed as though she could prepare herself for that moment. Once it was done, there was no counter spell, no going back.

But they never came.

Hermione lay there panting, her breath straining against the hand that held her to the ground. She thought for a second that perhaps she had missed it, maybe she wouldn't even hear the word Avada before her life was taken from her, but one glance at Malfoy confirmed this wasn't true, for he was frozen in the same position. The only thing that had changed was his eyes. They weren't dark and determined anymore, but light and swirling so fast with emotions that Hermione couldn't place them.

"Hermione!"

That was Harry's voice. Hermione braced herself for the unforgivable curse which would certainly be coming now, but it didn't. Malfoy just met her eyes and apparated into the night just as Harry rounded the corner.

"Hermione!" he shouted rushing over to her and kneeling down, "shit, are you okay? You look fucking awful."

Hermione was too stunned by the turn of events to respond.

**385 DEAD**

"What were you two thinking! You could have been killed! Did you even stop to think that you could have been walking into a trap or a town filled to the brim with Death Eaters? I can't believe you did this, and after the Ministry specifically asked you not to Harry. We have to work with the Ministry now even if we don't agree with their choices, or they will cut our funding and..."

Hermione sat listening with half an ear as Lupin continued his reprimand. He had been yelling for well over five minutes with no sign of stopping anytime soon. It had only taken one look at Hermione's black eye and Harry's cut lip before he put two and two together. They had been in his office ever since.

Although Hermione wanted to appear embarrassed and regretful of her actions, she was pretty sure her face resembled a deer in headlights. It had been in that expression since she had walked out of that alley alive, and it wasn't going to change anytime soon. To put it simply, she was stunned. Well, stunned and confused, but mostly just stunned. She couldn't seem to wrap her mind around the situation. It was altogether too bizarre. She'd lain there completely at the mercy of Draco Malfoy and walked out alive? Hermione shook her head, it was just too fucking weird.

"Hermione!"

Hermione startled and looked at Lupin who was staring at her expectantly, "I'm sorry what?"

He sighed, "I said, did you get a good look at your attacker before he apparated?"

Yes. Hermione answered inwardly. But she couldn't seem to get the words out of her mouth, they kept sticking at the back of her throat. She swallowed and tried again several times before shaking her head.

"Okay," Lupin sighed rubbing his forehead, "well get to the infirmary both of you. You look like hell."

---

To be continued...

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**Authors Note: **Big thanks to my beta Blake.


	3. Chapter 3

**390 DEAD**

"What do you think?"

Hermione glanced up from her novel and immediately covered her mouth to stifle her… well… how did one react in this situation? Laugh? Cry? Scream? Run away? Claw your eyes out? Hermione slowly lowered her hand when words and emotion escaped her. "What in the world are you wearing Ginny?"

Ginny was clad in a skin tight black cat suit, black combat boots and black motorcycle gloves. The only piece of her that wasn't completely covered in black fabric was her fiery red hair and pale skin of her face and neck.

"It's a prototype," Ginny responded with an excited grin, "Fred and George have been working on it."

"And what is 'it' exactly?"

"It's a shield, invisibility cloak, hand of glory and healer all in one. Look!" Ginny clamped her left hand closed and the suit began to glow bright blue. It illuminated the room for several seconds before sputtering, squealing loudly and emitting a heavy scent of burnt plastic. Ginny wrinkled her nose and waved her hand dismissively, "well like I said, it's a prototype. But it has potential right?"

Hermione coughed when the suit emitted an extra puff of burning plastic, "it might need a little work before it gets to that point."

"But when they are done, please have an open mind Hermione," Ginny pleaded, "this war isn't ending anytime soon, and we all need something to stop mom worrying so much. She's getting worse."

"She's your mother," Hermione assured her, "she's supposed to worry."

Ginny shook her head and reached out to clutch Hermione's arm. "No. You didn't see her at the last battle. She was so busy keeping an eye out for you, me, Ron, Harry, Fred, George and every other single bloody person in the Order, that she wasn't looking out for herself. I'm worried about her."

Hermione knew what Ginny was talking about. Mrs. Weasly had always been a protective mother hen, but since the war started things had escalated out of control. She was constantly hovering, fussing and opposing the mission plans she deemed 'too dangerous', which was basically every plan presented to the Order. Hermione knew and understood that she wanted to keep everyone safe, but her constant presence was more of a hindrance that anything else. How could you remain level headed and in control when you knew someone was being careless trying to watch out for you?

"We'll come up with something," Hermione assured her, although she had no plans or ideas in mind. "You better get changed before Ron sees you," she added as an afterthought.

Ginny rolled her eyes and started towards the door. "See you at the meeting. Don't forget your shield charms."

Hermione patted her pocket to ensure her wand was still firmly in place. Order meetings had a tendency to get out of hand, especially when the Senior Advisory Board was present.

--

"You're out of your flipping tree!"

"Listen to me old man! That building is filled with dark artifacts, if we don't get them out now they will just be used against us!"

"So we're stooping to their level are we? I will not resort to dark magic to…"

"… we're in the middle of a war!"

"That's no excuse to…"

"Can we get back to the business at hand," Moody interrupted calmly. "We are not having the same moral argument again. No one said we were going to use the artifacts. We just need to obtain them before they can be used against _us_."

"It's far too dangerous; we don't know anything about that building."

"Molly, we have acquired perfectly adequate floor plans and…"

"How many dark artifacts are in the building?"

"Intelligence predicts anywhere between one and fifteen."

"Well that narrows it down…"

"George…" Mr. Weasly warned.

"The one we're looking for is green and circular like a sphere; it is our main priority."

Hermione listened to the discussion with rapt attention, but she was one of the few. Beside her Ron was in a round of thumb wars with Fred, whilst Ginny was across the table popping chocolate frogs into her mouth and watching the entire spectacle like it was a tennis match. They clearly thought the subject wasn't worth their attention. That, or they thought the less interested they appeared, the less likely they were to be chosen for the mission.

Hermione turned her attention to Alyx Finley who sat at the head of the table. Alyx was the head of the Senior Advisory Board, and although he was ruthless and a little crazy, Hermione trusted his judgment. He had started out as an Auror, but as the war escalated so did his status; now days nothing happened without his final approval.

"Where is this building?" Hermione asked, her voice cutting cleanly through the babble of voices.

"Wiltshire," he answered promptly. "We need a team to gain access to the building, seize the objects, and then return straight back to the Order where said objects will be destroyed. It is a simple assignment. The building in question has been empty for weeks. Do I have any volunteers?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Alyx nodded his approval. "Anyone else?"

Several other hands rose hesitantly. Hermione scanned the table quickly, glancing over her newly named teammates; Tonks, Viva, Fraig and Simon.

"Excellent," Alyx approved, "you will apparate to the grounds of the Malfoy Manor at 02:00 and…"

Hermione's head snapped up in surprise. The Malfoy Manor?

--

It was just past 2am when Hermione apparated onto the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The soft grass squished underfoot and she immediately took stock of her surroundings.

It was different to what she had been expecting.

She had envisioned cold black stone walls, evil looking trees, manicured grass, and windows that loomed above you. In reality, Malfoy Manor looked like nothing more or less than the epitome of an English countryside estate. Granted the Manor was a lot larger than anything she had seen before, but it looked surprisingly normal.

"Are you sure this is it?" Hermione asked tentatively as her fellow witches and wizards apparated in beside her.

"This is it," Viva confirmed, "the walls are just as slimy as the former residents."

Hermione desperately hoped she was speaking figuratively because the walls looked perfectly clean to her eyes. "Former?"

"The Malfoy's are in Europe."

Hermione's eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline. "Excuse me?"

"According to the Ministry they're gathering followers for You-Know-Who," Tonks whispered as she slid up beside them., "They were last spotted in Spain."

"All of them?" Hermione questioned curiously.

"Yes."

Hermione frowned, either the Ministry's intelligence was severely lacking or Malfoy had slipped back into the country unnoticed. A notion that was extremely worrying because if he was slipping in and out of the country, who else was?

There wasn't time for further enquiries as the five of them split up and each approached a different entrance to the Manor. Although she had memorized the floor plans earlier that evening, Hermione still paused at the threshold to get her bearings. It was impossibly dark inside, and her wand only illuminated the space several feet around her, beyond that was total darkness.

With a low curse Hermione dug into the pocket of her jeans and extracted the floor plan. She knelt and spread it out on the floor, holding her wand high to illuminate the parchment. A large red dot appeared with the words 'YOU ARE HERE'. Hermione rolled her eyes; these were obviously Ministry maps, because the level of intelligence you needed to read them was close to zero.

Hermione traced the path to the cellar with her finger, memorizing the directions she needed to get there. Down the hall, second right, down the stairs, across the large square room, down another staircase, through the tapestry, second left, and then if all went to plan there should be a hidden trap door in the cellar… somewhere. Hermione rolled up the map and shoved it back into her pocket, thoroughly wishing it worked like the Marauders Map and could show her where her team was – the last thing she needed was to run into someone and start shouting spells in pure panic. Intelligence told them the building was empty, but that was bullshit as far as Hermione was concerned. No one would leave valuable dark artifacts unattended.

Hermione startled and cursed when something heavy suddenly struck the ceiling about above her so hard the chandelier rattled. An earsplitting scream pierced the Manor - Tonks was in trouble.

There were a couple of things that raced through Hermione's mind as she ran randomly down the halls. Would she ever find a staircase that led upstairs? Would they make it out of this alive? Was Tonks okay? But first and foremost, Hermione cursed her poor fitness levels because her heart was pounding and her lungs were about to burst out of her chest.

When she finally managed to find the source of the disturbance and ran inside it was to find Tonks in the middle of a fierce duel with an elderly man Hermione didn't recognize. "Avada Kedava!" Hermione yelled, watching in a mixture of disgust and satisfaction as the life was sucked from his body. The curse brought bile to Hermione's throat and she doubled over with an arm around her stomach, struggling to keep her dinner down.

"Hermione," Tonks exclaimed as she hurried over, "are you okay?"

It wasn't safe to speak, so instead she nodded.

"We have to get out of here fast, there are more of them."

Hermione swallowed straightened., "How many?"

"Three ran past me while I fought this one. Do you think they were tipped off that we would be here?"

Hermione rubbed her face., "Tthat would insinuate that there's a spy among us."

"Anything's possible."

The idea was too much to deal with right now. "Shit."

"Listen, I'll go find the others, you find the green sphere and get it the hell out of here. If You-Know-Who is bothering to protect it with four or more Death Eaters then it must be dangerous."

"It could be anywhere."

"I think the trapdoor in the cellar is our best bet. Now go."

Hermione reached out and ceased Tonk's arm, "look after yourself."

"You too."

--

It was a strange situation… to be desperately searching for a hidden object while the walls shook around you with the force of the fight that raged upstairs. Not knowing if your friends were alive or dead, but knowing you couldn't do anything about it except finish the task you had been assigned.

From what Hermione could see in the light from her wand the cellar had rough stone walls, and an uneven floor and low ceilings. The room was decently sized with low ceilings and was relatively empty aside from a long table at the end of the room that was covered with random bits of parchment, quills and scrolls. Within minutes of entering the room Hermione had already run her hands over every surface looking for indentations in the floor and walls… nothing. Seconds later she had knocked everything off the desk and was on her hands and knees skimming the stone underneath with her fingers.

"Yes," Hermione whispered, elated as her fingers hooked into a small groove., holding her wand high to light the area, she traced the trapdoor, unable to stop a triumphant smile from crossing her face. Digging her fingers into the groove, Hermione pried the trap door open slowly and shone her wand down into the darkness below.

The room under the trapdoor was tiny, nor more than a meter square and housed nothing more or less than the very object Alyx had told her about. Hermione dropped into the room and pocketed her wand.

It was strangely… unremarkable - a circular dark green ball covered with patches of pale yellow fur that swayed back and forth as if moving with the wind. Hermione pulled on a thick glove and reached out with nimble fingers to prod the ball gently. It shrank away from her finger and rolled several inches across the table as though it could escape her grasp. Hermione frowned and hesitated to pick it up – lord only knew what it would do once it was in her clutches. But this was indeed the object Alyx had described to her, and the fight upstairs was intensifying, so she had no choice. With that thought in mind she reached out and quickly plucked the ball from the table table, before boosting herself out of the hole and hurrying from the room.

It was easier to find her way back through the maze of hallways and rooms to her destination, all she had to do was follow the racket.

"Let's go!" Hermione shouted as she finally located her team in the ballroom.

Of the dueling group, only Tonks looked up. "Get out of here!" she yelled in between spells, "we'll hold them off. Get that thing back to headquarters."

Hermione hesitated and flicked her eyes over the scene. In between the flashes of light, smoke and tangle of limbs her team appeared to be holding their own against the Death Eaters. But if she left, it would be five against four. Not the best odds.

"Hermione!" Tonks screeched, "Get out of here!"

Not knowing what else she could do, Hermione turned and sprinted from the room, wand in one hand, prickly circular object in the other. She had no idea what it was that she was holding, and desperately hoped it wasn't going to melt her glove and infect her with some deadly disease that would contaminate herself and everyone else in a five hundred mile radius. That thought alone was enough for Hermione to want to hurl the object in the opposite direction, but she kept a firm grip on it as she ran. It was what they had come for.

Skidding around a corner, Hermione ran up the hallway, desperately hoping that she was headed towards the exit. The last thing she needed was to get lost in the labyrinth that was the Malfoy Manor. It was a massive relief to finally spot the large intricately decorated foyer and large welcoming front doors. Hermione grinned in relief and sped across the room, her hand was just reaching for the handle when she tripped and went crashing to the floor, green prickly sphere falling from her hand at the impact and rolling across the floor.

Hermione cursed and pushed herself to her knees, glancing over her shoulder to see what she had tripped over. Nothing was there. It wasn't until a figure stepped into the room behind her that she realized it hadn't been her clumsiness that had made her fall, it was a trip jinx.

Hermione stared at him unable to move. A million thoughts raced through her head – a notion that didn't sit well in her stomach, because since their encounter at Willow Oaks she already thought about him more often than she was willing to admit. Over and over and over she had played the scene in her mind, over and over she had felt his wand shoved into her wind pipe, and over and over she'd analyzed his actions down to the smallest detail – and at the end of every replay she was left with the same emotion – utter confusion and the everlasting question: Why didn't hadn't he killed her? He'd had every possible opportunity. Hermione wasn't deluded, she knew he didn't hadn't spared her life because a little part of him was actually human and cared for her safety. He was evil and they loathed one another. That was the only thing Hermione really understood; everything else was just a big mess of confusion tangled together amidst the war. But still… as she met his eyes across the room, a tiny part of her soul assured her that he wouldn't harm her.

"Crucio!"

Everyone's crucio curse was different. The first time she had been on the receiving end it felt like ice was freezing her body and dissolving the skin from her bones. The second time felt like being dipped in acid. Malfoy's crucio was different again. It was like razor blades cutting into her flesh. The pain was immense and she could feel it on every inch of her body. But the physical pain was nothing compared to her stupidity – did she honestly think he wouldn't hurt her?

The pain ceased abruptly, leaving her whimpering and panting on the ground. She knew at that moment without a doubt that Malfoy's crucio was worse than any other, because even though the curse was withdrawn her skin still ached and burned.

"Get up Mudblood."

His voice was like a spoonful of ice cream that gave you brain freeze. Beautiful, cold and agonizing all at the same time. Hermione closed her eyes and felt blindly for her wand, once her hand closed around it, she pointed at Malfoy and screamed, "crucio!"

She had never performed the cruciatus curse before. It took more energy than she imagined to keep the spell in place. Hermione wasn't a sadist. It didn't matter how much she hated Malfoy and despised every inch of him, she didn't get any pleasure in watching him writhe on the ground stubbornly silent against the torture that shook his body.

Hermione relinquished the curse and struggled to her feet, her body weary and shaking from exhaustion. Stumbling over to Malfoy she kicked his wand from his limp hand and pointed her own at his chest. "Guess the tables have turned."

Malfoy pushed himself up onto his elbows with a grimace and sent her a look that was so filled with hatred that it chilled her to the bone. No one had ever looked at her like that before; like she was a virus or contagious disease. Or perhaps just a Mudblood with her wand pointed at a purebloods chest.

The words were on the tip of her tongue. The two words she had uttered countless times. This was no different to any other time. So why was she hesitating? Because he had hesitated to kill her? What did it matter? That was weeks ago, and it didn't change the fact that he had killed hundreds of innocent people. Her wand was trembling uncontrollably in her hand, and her grip was loose, he probably could have knocked it out of her hand if he wanted, but he didn't, he just lay there waiting. He certainly didn't seem terrified by the fact he was about to die at the hand of the enemy. Maybe he wanted to die. Maybe everyone did.

"Are you going to kill me Granger?" he asked, voice drifting to her in between the shouts and explosions that echoed from the other room.

She wanted to. So badly. But she couldn't. "We're even. Next time, you're dead Malfoy. STUPIFY!"

The red light shot from her wand and hit Malfoy square in the chest, rendering him unconscious. Hermione lowered her wand and rubbed a hand across her face wearily before shuffling across the room, and picking up the artifact and apparating back to headquarters.

**395 DEAD**

"How many?"

"Five."

"Did you identify them?"

Viva nodded and listed five names.

"Anyone else?"

"I don't know I didn't..."

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione broke in softly. Everyone looked at her and she rubbed her eyes wearily, "Draco Malfoy was there."

Lupin cursed under his breath and Moody frowned. "Lucius Malfoy's son? Our intelligence tells us he's in Europe. Are you sure Hermione?"

"I'm sure."

Lupin slumped down onto his seat and massaged his temples., "How did he possibly make it back into London without the Ministry knowing? There must be a hole somewhere in our defenses. Someone must have slipped up in the past week..."

"Month," Hermione cut in as a headache began to pound at her temples.

"What?"

"Someone must have slipped up in the past month," Hermione repeated softly, very aware that every eye in the room was on her. "He was one of the Death Eaters at Willow Oaks, Lupin."

Lupin frowned, "why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know."

--

To be continued...

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	4. Chapter 4

**397 DEAD**

"I cannot believe you just _failed _to mention that Draco fucking Malfoy tried to kill you."

Hermione sighed heavily and rubbed her face as she ascended the stairs to the second floor of Headquarters. Ron trailed closely behind like a very annoying, very persistent ginger puppy. She didn't need this right now; not when she had just been interrogated at length by the senior members of the Order. If that wasn't embarrassing enough, Ministry officials had been called in to ask their own questions, so Hermione had been forced to speak at length on her encounters with Malfoy down to the tiniest detail. She had told them everything. Well almost everything... As far as she was concerned her inability to kill Malfoy was a personal flaw that didn't interest anyone but herself.

"I mean, he's a _Death Eater _Hermione. He's evil. He's always been evil. Have you forgotten what an annoying ferret he was at Hogwarts? Why in Merlin didn't you tell somebody that you'd run into him?"

"By somebody, you mean yourself of course," Hermione cut in.

"Or Harry. The three of us tell each other everything."

Hermione paused on the top stair and considered that statement. Did they tell each other everything? It felt like a very long time since the three of them had sat down and talked about their lives. They were always off on separate missions, and on the rare occasion that they did have a chance to talk it was always over meals where they were surrounded by other Order members, so there was never an opportunity to talk privately. This point seemed futile to argue so Hermione turned around and fixed Ron with a determined stare. "Look Ronald, I've told the Order and the Ministry everything there is to tell. I don't want to talk about Malfoy or think about Malfoy anymore tonight. I've had quite enough of him, okay?"

Ron crossed his arms across his chest. "Fine."

**518 DEAD**

Her ears were ringing. Hermione groaned still half asleep and rolled over, rubbing her ears lazily to get rid of the annoying noise. But despite her best attempts the noise continued, getting louder and louder until her head was throbbing. Hermione grunted in annoyance and pulled her blankets closer, burrowing back into her pillow and wondering if she had the energy to walk down the hall to the bathroom and take an aspirin. Ever since the war had begun, Hermione had found that typical Muggle painkillers were the only things that got rid of the aches that tore at her temples. She had tried every potion she could find in every medical text written for the Wizarding world, but none of them worked as well as a simple aspirin. The only problem was the utter curiosity Fred and George displayed for the tiny pills. Last week she had discovered them rolling the little white capsules across the floor like marbles. Now days she hid them right at the back of her toiletry draw.

The consistent ringing brought Hermione further and further into the world of consciousness, and with a resigned sigh she pushed back her blankets and sat up in bed. It was only then, she realised that the ringing wasn't in her mind at all – it was the emergency bell echoing around Grimmauld Place.

Flying into action, Hermione practically fell out of bed in her rush to be out of the room. Shoving her legs into her jeans, she hopped around on one leg trying to get her shoes on at the same time as pulling her hair into a ponytail. Just as she was hastily pulling on her jumper Harry skidded into the room.

"What's happened?" Hermione asked hurriedly as she pushed her sleeves up to her elbows and scanned the room trying to find her coat.

"Ambush in Richmond."

"Shit." Hermione took a second to grab her wand before apparating from the room.

-

It was like stepping into a nightmare. The night was clear, yet the smoke hung in the air so thick that it was impossible to see the moon and stars. Muggle homes lay smoking and half destroyed in their lots; streetlamps flickered weakly; the once pleasant family roads were strewn with personal belongings that had been torn haphazardly from their homes; and amidst all this clutter laid the bodies of the Muggles who had tried to run. Hermione pocketed her wand weakly; it was clear from the large green Dark Mark that hovered evilly in the sky above them that they were once again two steps behind Voldemort. The injustice of it all stuck Hermione like a fist in her guts, and before she could even take a breath she was on her knees in the middle of the road. She clutched at her chest and stomach with both hands as though this mere action could keep all her insides together. How much more could she possibly experience in this war before the hole in her chest got too large and all her internal organs fell out completely? How much death, destruction, loss and violence could she witness before she got lost in her grief, never to re-emerge?

Hermione lowered her eyes to the pavement and blinked several times to clear the tears from her eyes, and once her vision cleared she realised she was kneeling beside a golden necklace. Sniffing, Hermione reached out and picked it up gently, holding it close to her face to make out the tiny golden ballerina charm that hung delicately on the end of the long golden chain. Closing her eyes, Hermione held the little charm tightly in her fist. She tried not to torture herself by thinking of whom it had belonged to, but it was impossible. Visions of young girls, happy and giggling twirling around their living rooms for their proud parents filled Hermione's head until she was gasping for breath.

"Miss, are you okay?"

No! Hermione wanted to scream into the night. No, I'm not bloody okay! But instead, without even looking up at the Ministry member simply replied, "What do you need me to do?"

"Check for survivors, we need to have this place cleaned up before the Muggles start arriving," the member of the Post Battle Squad replied promptly.

Hermione nodded her understanding, but the orders didn't really resonate in her mind. Check for survivors? What was the point, there wouldn't be any. Clean this place up? How long were they going to hide this war from the Muggles? How long were they going to leave them in the dark, weak and unprepared against an attack that no one could save them from? Grief was slowly converting to anger - anger at the Ministry for failing to pre-empt yet another attack. They had every resource available to the Wizarding World, so where in the world were they going so wrong?

The ballerina charm was cutting into the palm of her hand; Hermione loosened her fist and observed the little charm carefully before cautiously placing the necklace over her head so that the charm settled against her heart. Tucking it down the front of her shirt, Hermione finally lifted her eyes and scanned the street in front of her where members of the Order were already making their way in and out of houses, working quickly with hands and wands to clear the area. Gathering her resolve, Hermione began to stand when suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Freezing in her kneeling position she slowly turned her head to the left, eyes seeking out the shadows between two houses to find the person she knew indisputably stood there. He stood in the shadows, arms crossed over his chest, body leaning into the brick wall of one of the houses. He didn't move when she spotted him, nor did his facial expression change. He just stood there watching her watch him. He lingered for several eternally long seconds before he abruptly turned and apparated, leaving Hermione kneeling speechlessly alone in the middle of the street.

**562 DEAD**

The headline was sensationalised beyond belief. It spread across the entire front page of _The Daily Prophet_ in huge bold letters that proclaimed **HUNDREDS OF MUGGLES DIE IN RICHMOND MASSACRE**. Hermione scowled and sipped her tea as she scanned the subsequent article.

_Last night the suburb of Richmond was overthrown by Death Eaters in a surprise attack that officials are calling the worst event since the commencement of the war against You-Know-Who. Over fifty Death Eaters stormed into the suburb shortly after 3am and left a wave of havoc in their wake. The Order of the Phoenix (founded by eccentric ex Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore) failed to act in a timely manner, and as a result hundred of Muggles died at the hand of You-Know-Who's followers. _

Hermione huffed and scanned through the rest of the article in disgust. Phrases like, "...poorly managed..." "...lazy tactics..." "...inability to follow Ministry orders..." and "...inexperienced children..." jumped off the page like a personal attack that stabbed into Hermione's heart.

"Can you believe this?" Hermione burst out once the article became to scalding to bear, "they're talking about the Order like we're the enemy! We can't be everywhere at once, it's impossible to have people at every corner of London watching every single Death Eater and pre-empting every single attack. We don't have enough members to do everything and be everywhere! Already we're outnumbered, and everyday Voldemort just gains more and more supporters and we fall further and further behind. And look..." Hermione jabbed the paper violently with her index finger, "there is not one bad word spoken about the Ministry. We're getting all the blame for their mistakes!"

Across the table Kingsley looked up from his toast and surveyed her calmly.

His lack of response was infuriating. Hermione fought the urge to yank out her hair in frustration. "Have you read this?" Hermione demanded as she pushed the paper viscously towards him.

Kingsley nodded and placed the paper down on the seat beside him so it was out of sight. "There's no such thing as good publicity in a war Hermione. Don't take these things to heart, we can't afford to be distracted."

Hermione didn't want to say that the reason she was so upset was because the article was partly correct. So instead she just stood, dumped her tea down the sink and stalked from the room.

**564 DEAD**

The table was crammed with people. Dozens of extra chairs had been conjured and distributed haphazardly around the room with each occupant shifting and craning their necks for the greatest view of Alastor Moody who stood at the head of the room, cane in one hand and an unrolled scroll in the other.

"By order of the Minister of Magic," Moody began one eye trained on the parchment while the other swept the room, "all future movements made by the Order of the Phoenix against the Death Eaters must be approved by a Ministry Official. Ministry orders will take priority over Order missions to avoid further embarrassment in the eyes of the Wizarding World. It is my hope and belief as Minister that this new law will prevent any further Muggle deaths."

When the outrage in the room died down Harry shook his head and voiced what everyone else was thinking. "That won't work."

Moody sighed and rolled the scroll back up, "I agree. But I'm not seeing any alternatives"

"We need to be proactive," Hermione broke in passionately. "Be out there on the streets, talking to people, getting information, tracking the Death Eaters and guarding what we still have left. We can't just sit around waiting for Ministry orders, especially when they always come half an hour too late."

Lupin shook his head. "The relationship between the Ministry and the Order is as fragile as ever. To go against their plans and implement our own is like declaring independence. The Minister won't allow it without a fight."

"Who says the Ministry has to know?" Hermione asked. "If we work our own intelligence in secret, then maybe we can actually pre-empt Voldemort's attacks instead of being the last to know."

"Things can't continue like this," Mr Weasley cut in from across the table. "Every single mission and plan the Ministry implements is compromised."

"The Death Eaters knew we were going to be at the Malfoy Manor," Tonks added. "How is that possible when we were only given the order hours before? The only way they could have known is if someone told them."

"Voldemort could have any number of spies in the Ministry..."

"... which is even more reason to operate independently of them!"

Hermione caught Harry's eye across the table and they shared an exasperated look as the room erupted into a flurry of voices shouting to be heard above each other. This was absolutely ridiculous; they could sit here arguing with one another all night. The last thing they all needed was more procrastination.

Amidst the chaos, Moody stepped away from the head of the room and beckoned Hermione over to the corner where they could speak privately.

With one eye searching for eavesdroppers and the other trained on Hermione, Moody asked, "out on the streets, gaining information... do you think you could come up with anything useful?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, "but anything is better than sitting around waiting."

Moody hesitated before leaning close and whispering, "no one can know Hermione. If you want to do this, then I'm not going to stop you, but you need to work quietly. If any word of this reaches the Ministry then we're all going to be in trouble. The Order and the Ministry need to be allies - you understand that don't you? The day we turn our backs on the Ministry is the day the Daily Prophet will exploit its influence to turn public favour against us, and soon we will be as sought after as the Death Eaters. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded.

Moody clapped her on the shoulder. "Good. Meet me in my office later tonight and we'll discuss tactics."

**648 DEAD**

The alcove smelt like rotten fish and mould. Hermione wrinkled her nose and pressed herself further back against the wall with a grimace. Gods, was this what she'd been reduced to?

Every night for the past two weeks, Hermione had met with Moody under the cover of darkness to soak up as much information as she could in order to... well... to do whatever it was she was going to do to collect information for the Order of the Phoenix.

So far, that didn't mean anything more or less than hovering in smelly abandoned alleyways and trying to keep herself awake in the darkest hours of the night.

Gods, her mother would be so proud.

Hurrying down the dark alley Hermione paused at the final door on the left and hesitated before raising her arm to knock.

"Hello, Granger."

Hermione spun around in surprise to see a blond head leaning out the window two floors above her. She blinked, shocked by his sudden appearance. "Are you stalking me Malfoy?"

"Actually," he leant further out the window and rested his elbows against the frame, "I've been waiting for you. You see, we have some unfinished business to attend to."

Her eyes narrowed. "If by unfinished business you mean your death, then yes, yes we do."

"You have something of mine," Draco continued like she had never spoken, "a certain object that you stole from my house."

It took Hermione a second to realise what he was talking about. Merlin, that break-in felt like it had happened years ago. "Your precious little weapon has been destroyed. So why don't you run along and tell that to your boss." Hermione was going to add something about white hair and blond ferrets but her spiel was interrupted when the door behind her opened.

"Hermione, is that you?"

"Well," Draco drawled in mock amusement as Dean Thomas stepped out into the alley, "isn't this a cosy little reunion."

"Go back inside Dean," Hermione ordered her eyes never leaving Malfoy; he was the last person she'd trust when her back was turned.

Malfoy smirked. "Thinking about snitching, Thomas?"

"What? N...No... I uh..."

"Dean," Hermione broke in firmly, "please go back inside."

"Yes, do go back inside, Thomas," Malfoy agreed with a casual wave of his hand. "If you know what's good for you, you'll be long gone by the time the Mudblood is dead."

Hermione waited until the door snapped closed behind her before scowling, "so are you going to come down here Malfoy? Or hide up there?"

Malfoy lifted an eyebrow and drawled, "I'm not coming to you, Granger," before stepping back from the window and disappearing from sight.

Hermione cursed. Gods, this wasn't what she had come here for. She had come to speak to Dean and try to get any information she could from him about his time with the Death Eaters. Dean had been captured sometime in the first few days of the war, and all Hermione really knew about the situation was that he had somehow managed to escape and had been hiding in the backstreets of Diagon Alley ever since. It had taken Moody weeks to track down his location. Hermione rubbed her face; trust Malfoy to screw everything up for her. There was plenty of time for her to murder Malfoy – and this was definitely not the time. Killing Malfoy could wait.

With that thought in mind Hermione turned and thumped Dean's door with her fist.

No answer.

Hermione cursed under her breath and thumped the door again. "Open up Dean!"

Still no answer. She needed to kick the door open like they did in action films, but Hermione was pretty sure it wouldn't be impressive if she tried. She'd probably end up breaking her ankle at the mere attempt. Resisting the urge to clutch at her hair Hermione spun around and glared up at the window Malfoy had once occupied. She was going to murder him.

At that precise instant Malfoy reappeared at the window and flicked something down to her. Hermione caught it automatically and opened her fist to see one of her enchanted coins she'd used in fifth year for Dumbledore's Army. She shook her head in disbelief; gee it was heart-warming to know that the Death Eaters were putting her own intelligence to use.

"When you're ready to talk about that little object of mine that you have," Malfoy drawled, "let me know."

"I don't have it!" Hermione persisted, her voice rising in annoyance.

"I don't believe you. Bring me the object and I'll tell you all there is to know about Dean Thomas. Do we have a deal Mudblood?"

Hermione huffed, "you're making a bargain with me?"

Malfoy held up his own coin and twirled it between his fingers wordlessly.

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest and raised her chin stubbornly. "I'll bring you the object if you tell me all about Dean, how you got back into Britain without alerting the Ministry, and exactly where Voldemort is planning to strike next."

Malfoy flicked his coin up in the air and caught it before drawling, "You got yourself a deal."

There was no way he would live up to his end of the bargain. And Hermione knew for a fact that the object he sought was no longer in existence. But she had an open line of communication with the enemy and that was gold as far as she was concerned.

-

To be continued...

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-


	5. Chapter 5

**932 DEAD**

The rain poured down from the sky, lashing against the windows and pounding against the pavement outside Grimmauld Place. Inside the mood was bleak and candles were lit to provide some extra light against the cloud covered sun. On the third floor Hermione sat in a deserted hallway wrapped in her warmest cloak with The Daily Prophet open on the floor in front of her. Things weren't looking good.

_...over fifty Muggles found dead in Kingston... _

That hadn't been a good night for Hermione. The magic had been thick in the air when she'd apparated to the scene. It smelt like petrol and chlorine mixed together into a toxic substance that left her gasping for breath and struggling to keep her dinner down. It had only taken one look at the bodies that were pilled in the centre of the street for her stomach to rebel.

_...Minister for Magic meets with Muggle Prime Minister..._

About time, Hermione thought dryly.

_...Vincent Rangalee from the Department of Magical Transportation strangles his wife under the imperius curse..._

_...Dean Thomas found dead by Aurors in Chelmsford... _

Hermione sighed. That news was not surprising, but it still tore at her heart. Shaking her head sadly Hermione chucked the paper away before her mood could get any lower; reading the Daily Prophet was damn depressing. Resting her head back against the wall, Hermione closed her eyes and purposely relaxed her mind and body, sinking into a meditative state that she had come to rely on to unwind. It didn't last long, because at that moment the enchanted coin in her pocket began to grow warm. Cursing Hermione fished it out before it could scald her and tossed it across the hall. She watched through narrowed cautious eyes as it glowed bright red before fading back to its original gold. Hermione rubbed her face. This was the third time this week it had nearly burnt her. The message was obvious – hurry the fuck up. It had been nearly a month since Malfoy had dropped the coin into her hand and she had assumed it would be up to her to initiate the meeting. Apparently Malfoy was sick of waiting around.

Hermione grimaced. If she had her way she would never meet Malfoy. She'd spoken to Moody about her and Malfoy's tentative agreement and he had confirmed that the artefact Malfoy sought was in the possession of the Ministry, whether or not it had been destroyed was unknown but either way Hermione didn't want Malfoy knowing anything about it. That little green sphere was evil and the further it was from the hands of Lord Voldemort the better.

Hermione groaned inwardly. Who was she kidding? She was stalling – she didn't want to see him again, she didn't want to fight him and she certainly didn't want his face imprinted in on her brain any further. Scowling, Hermione reached out and picked up the coin. It was still warm. Summoning every inch of her strength she charmed a date and time into the coin.

12.11 : 03.00

She hoped it burnt his fingers off.

**935 DEAD**

It was impossible to lose him. Not only was he large and easily visible but he was walking at the pace of a turtle! Hermione scowled and muttered under her breath as she followed Vincent Crabbe at a distance doing her best to remain inconspicuous even though he was so dim he probably wouldn't have noticed a herd of elephants trailing him. Hermione had been tracking him for four blocks now, hoping that he would lead her to... something... anything... anything at all to feed back to the Order. So far she wasn't having much luck and to make matters even worse she was due to meet Malfoy within the hour. What a waste of time this little act of secrecy had been – it had taken her longer to get past Mrs Weasley than it had to trail Crabbe.

"Bloody hell," Hermione cursed under her breath as Crabbe stopped once again. She ducked between two buildings and pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders.

For ten minutes Crabbe did nothing more or less than stand motionlessly in the street. But then, in a flurry of motion he turned, pulled out his wand, muttered an incantation and stepped straight through the solid brick wall of 158 Beltana Crescent. Hermione's eyes widened as he disappeared.

Jackpot.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione was rather proud that she didn't jump out of her skin and wet her pants when the voice suddenly broke the silence. Spinning around Hermione's eyes almost bugged out of her skull when she realised Ginny was standing less than five meters away staring at her like she had just grown another head. "Ginny?" she whispered anxiously, "What in the world are you doing here?"

Those eight words must have triggered something in Ginny's mind because suddenly she was looking just as sheepish as Hermione felt. Apparently there was more than one girl out tonight who was doing what she shouldn't be.

Ginny scratched her temple and pushed her fiery red hair away from her face, "Let's pretend we never saw each other shall we?"

Hermione smiled softly, "You've got yourself a deal."

Ginny traced her eyes over Hermione's form amidst the trash of the alley and wrinkled her nose., "You look after yourself okay?"

"You too."

It wasn't until Ginny was out of sight that Hermione swore under her breath and rubbed her face roughly. Jeez, what kind of a spy was she? Not only did she have no idea what she was looking or waiting for, but she was getting caught all over the place by red headed vixens. What a nightmare.

Rubbing her face, Hermione snuck a peak at her watch. 3:08am.

She had lingered long enough. It was time to go.

**938 DEAD**

He was waiting for her when she apparated into the abandoned alley. He leant patiently against the wall, arms crossed and eyes cold underneath the strands of blond hair that fell across his forehead. As soon as she appeared he flicked his coin at her in annoyance. "Burnt a hole in my robe."

Hermione fished out her own coin and tossed it onto the ground next to his. "That's too bad. I was hoping for somewhere a little more... noteworthy."

He scowled. "Why are you wasting my time Mudblood? I know you don't have what I want."

"Yeah well, it's a little hard to deliver what you don't have."

"Then why even bother coming?"

Hermione shrugged and replied dryly, "Just couldn't resist your charming personality."

He didn't smile, just asked bluntly, "Are you here to kill me? Because if you are, lets just get it over and done with - this is getting a little old."

"I'm not here to kill you," Hermione replied with a small sigh. The mere thought of the amount of effort it would take was almost more than she could bear. Finding the energy and drive to carry on with all this shit was difficult, far too difficult for a war that had barely begun.

Malfoy smirked. "What's the matter Granger? Don't have enough ammunition to kill me? I deserve it you know. I killed 280 Muggles at Oaks Willow. I killed them in their beds, while they were sleeping: mothers, fathers, kids, grandparents, cousins, uncles, aunts. They didn't even know I was there..."

On second thought, maybe that drive wouldn't be so hard to find after all. Hermione clenched her fists, rising to his bait. "Shut up."

"... and again at Richmond," Draco continued his voice cold and hard. "You want to know something interesting, Granger? I killed that girl whose necklace you're wearing."

The anger was so intense that her hands was were trembling with it. "Don't you dare talk about her," Hermione spat.

Malfoy leered and stepped closer until he was in her personal space. "She was wearing pink pyjamas with yellow stars," he taunted, cold grey eyes boring into her own, "And she had brown hair in braids, and when I stepped into her room she looked at me she asked me if I was an angel." Malfoy smirked. "Am I that angelic looking, Granger? Anyways, after I killed mummy and daddy she..."

"SHUT UP!" Hermione screamed as red hot rage licked through her body. Her wand was in her hand, how had it gotten there so quick? "Just shut up Malfoy!"

"Make me!" he snarled, grabbing her wand and shoving it into his torso.

Hermione steadied her hand as livid red sparks brushed harmlessly over his shirt.

"C'mon, Granger," Malfoy spat his eyes dark and angry. "Yyou came all this way to kill me, so do it already."

Hermione gripped her wand, the killing curse milliseconds away from being shouted when unexpectedly her mind whispered: _No, you need him._

The whispered words left her absolutely flabbergasted and staring at Malfoy in some form of horrified shock. She didn't know what was more messed up - the fact that he was giving her the open opportunity to kill him, or that she was hesitating over a couple of internally fucked up words. What in Merlin was wrong with her?

Malfoy was apparently wondering the same thing because his lip curled in distaste. "Next time, Granger, why don't we just stay out of each others way?" He dropped her wrist and stalked up the alleyway out of sight.

Once he was gone Hermione's wand fell from her trembling fingers and clattered to the floor. Rubbing her hand over her face she backed up several steps till she hit the opposite wall and slid to the ground. "This is so messed up," she muttered as she buried her face in her hands.

---

To be continued...

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